What a long, strange trip it's been...

Hi folks,

Practice has been going well enough. Still doing ~30 minutes of mindfullness of breathing first thing in the morning, and 30-60 minutes of noting in the evening, with frequent mindfullness efforts as I go through my day.

Last week saw some interesting things:

1. From about Monday to Thursday, my concentration was much stronger than usual, and my mind was intensely calm. It was as if I was sitting down at the base of my consciousness, waiting for thoughts to arise, and then letting them pass when they appeared. Not entirely sure what led to the increased focus, but thankful to have experienced it. (this has worn off somewhat since last week)

2. On three or four occassions, off the mat, just in day-to-day functioning, I became reflexively aware of the "I" having been absent for the last few seconds. Each was a kind of "whoah!" moment, first from the perspective of WTF just happened, and then from the "Oh right, consequence of my practice, cool". I can access memories of, or infer what happened in the gap, but there is the distinct awareness that "I" hadn't participated in what went on during the gap.

3. I mention above that while on the mat, I will sometimes become aware that I am in a state or at a low enough "power level" that I'm not aware of when/where I am, and that I would have to rouse my mind to assess location. On Thursday evening, I was aware of passing into this state, the first time I've noticed entering it. Very cool.

And that's my update!
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Hi again betawave,

Was going to mention, I am willing to entertain the prospect of having attained first path, but I am definitely still encumbered by the fetters that are traditionally gone after second path

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Hi folks,

Good week on the cushion. In fact a very good week. Within minutes of sitting down, I seem to go very deep, without having to work very hard for it.

Also been having some moments off-cushion, in which the world seems a bit like a TV show, in that I am watching it, rather than being in it.

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Also, experiencing the return of an old problem: I'm constantly realizing that my head has fallen forward. I straighten up, and a few minutes later realize that it has fallen forward again. Never aware of this as it happens, only afterward.

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"... I am definitely still encumbered by the fetters that are traditionally gone after second path..."

Such as?

Hi Marti,

Thanks for the question...it led me to some interesting fact-checking. In my head, I had been thinking that sensual desire and anger (ill will) were eradicated after second path, but in double-checking, I've found that these are more accurately "attenuated" after second path (Gunaratana's path of serenity and insight).

Interesting...I will have to think on it. I think I am angry less often than I have been in the past, but when anger does arise, I am very aware of the "purity" of it, as if I can see it for what it is, rather than having it cloud my judgement without being aware of its influence. I find myself making decisions about whether to allow anger to proceed.

And as far as sensual desire goes, it can still be there, but I am less inclined to act on it in some circumstances (e.g. - don't really want a/nother beer, don't need dessert, etc.).

Again, thanks Marti, a very skillful question.

Interesting coincidence: while looking up the path/fetter pairings, one of the early Google offerings was a quote from the Bhante G book mentioned above. I have my own copy, so went to grab it, and there was already a bookmark at the exact page (172) about second path and its fruit. Been some time since I had it open

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On a related note, I find that I am very aware of anger in others around me, and saddened by seeing the misery it is causing them.

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You're welcome, and please call me Chris.

Hi folks,

Practice has been a bit sporadic over the last week, owing to vacation in a busy and crowded cottage. Restful, but not meditation restful

Two interesting "symptoms" to report though, over the last two weeks or so (although they have occurred in the past as well): left eyelid/brow twitches like mad at odd intervals. And also having trouble...with stairs. It's like my mind and my feet get out of sync or something. It only happens when going up the stairs, not coming down. Perhaps due to typically closer attention to feet while going down the stairs, and the effect is exacerbated by mindfulness practice while ascending, particularly when nearing the top. I've had to stop on occasion and "reset" my mind's stair-climbing routine.

Regards,
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Hi folks,

An odd episode to report from Sunday night: I set out to sit for 40 minutes in the late evening. I sat comfortably, set the timer, and began with some mindfulness of breathing before switching to noting. There were lots of what I call head bobs, where I'll suddenly notice that my chin is now resting on my chest. Not asleep, just lost track of my head's position. A reasonably calm sit.

And then there was a gap...I can't swear to any kind of cessation, as I might have simply fallen asleep for a bit, but when awareness returned, I was aware that quite some time had passed. I also had the familiar experience of not knowing when/where I was. Typically by mentally rousing myself a bit, the knowledge returns, from memory or as I reason things out. In this case, in spite of rousing myself to what felt like regular awareness, the knowledge was absent. When was I? Where was I? Why couldn't I figure it out? Panic arose, and I decided to open my eyes. Location thus established (safe at home), the time was still unknown, other than it being dark out the window. I looked at my timer, I'd missed the chimes and sat (and/or dozed) for ~75 minutes. Although fully awake now, and still a bit freaked, I got up and walked down the hall. Slowly, memory and evidence before me indicated when I was. Mystery solved. I went to bed a short time later, but unease stayed with me part-way through the next day.

A bit novel for me, as my sits are normally very pleasant, calm and uneventful. Interesting...

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Hi folks,

Been a busy couple of months, so my updates have fallen behind'¦let's see'¦

Context: still sitting (at least) twice a day, for 30+ minutes a pop as time allows, doing Mahasi-style noting. Also doing small mindfulness checks throughout the day, particularly while walking from place to place. During such walks, I often feel close to'¦something'¦some kind of mental shift accompanied by a bit of anxiety.

Late August: practice went very flat for about two weeks. The on-cushion experience was utterly bland and unremarkable. Not much different from just sitting quietly.

Early September: sat down on a Sunday night, and BAM!, practice became interesting again. Immense calm, slow breathing, odd mental phenomena. Not sure what changed, but interesting to notice such a dramatic shift. Significance?

Mid-September: off the cushion, began having odd moments like waking up from a lack of presence regarding what had just been happening. Almost like waking from sleep.

Last two weeks: several episodes of suddenly being confronted with the prospect of my own non-existence following death. Causes some brief anxiety, sadness and fear before passing. Mid-life crisis? Insight stage of Dissolution? A bit of both? Planning to note the next one that comes along'¦

Last two days: becoming 'newly' aware of mindfulness, its absence versus its presence, the role it plays in experience and how its application excludes so much'¦mental 'crap'. Re-observation perhaps?

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Hi folks,

Reviewing my post from early October, and things are much the same. Still two half-hour sits a day (more when possible), but doing mindfullness of breathing in the mornings again, and noting in the evening. Haven't read much, but spend about an hour a day listening to talks by John Peacock.

The brief flashes of having been "absent" are continuing, and I think I've come up with a better way to describe them. You know when you're at a movie theater, and very engrossed in the film, and then some stimulus (e.g. - the guy behind you sneezes) brings you "out" of the movie, and your perceptions shift? It's quite like that, but as if the movie I was watching was whatever I had just been doing.

The instances of momentary awareness of my eventual non-existence continue, but they are less anxiety-inducing.

The on-cushion quality of my meditation has been a bit flat, which happens (not worried), but I'm definitely beginning to note a rhythm to the ups and downs. Over the course of a few weeks, the depth of my meditations will rise and then fall again.

I did have a great sit the other night though, in which I became aware of the parallel mode in which various mental threads are generated, rather than a serial model that would lend itself better to the theory of a static self. Not an earth-shattering awareness, but I appreciated seeing it so clearly.

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Forgot to mention: a few entries up, I mentioned the aggravating twitching eyelid problem. That has thankfully stopped!

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Hi folks,

Something new has happened, something that (I think) qualifies as a cessation, or at least something similar that's unique in my experience so far...

Evening sits for the last few weeks have been pretty deep. Consciousness has been "rarified" in a sense. Off-cusion, I've had regular little "moments" through the day, as previosuly discussed. Also been having a general difficulty staying connected with the immediate circumstances, as if it were a TV show in the background. There's also been a sort of fear that I'm drifting away from what I used to be.

Then about a week ago, while sitting and eating dinner, I straightened up my back in order to move my legs, and...there was a gap...a noticeable blank moment, like a static blast in the middle of a TV show, that obliterates the continuity of the image, with a non-image. Unlike the previous instances I've recently described, which seemed somehow disjoint from the reality of the previous few seconds, in this case I was just not there...for a moment. And then I was back, and thrown off balance by it. I asked afterward, and nobody at the table noticed anything unusual, so the pause couldn't have been long, and I didn't faceplant in my soup. From my perspective, there was no after-glow, bliss wave or anything, just a definite "WHOA, what was that?" and the sense that I had been shut off for a second. And in the week following, I haven't noticed any residual effects or changes.

Any suggestions on how to capitalize on the experience, should it happen again?

Many thanks,
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Can you describe this better? How did you feel just before it happened, and how did you feel just after?

The first thing I would do if I were in your shoes, Dude, would be to carefully re-read the chapter in MCTB "Was that Emptiness?"

Hello Chris,

Thanks for the question.

Before: Let's see...just sitting at the table eating dinner. Relaxed and calm, focused (somewhat mindfully) on the eating, with (atypically) no discussion going on at that particular point...a full-on lull in the conversation I don't recall being engaged in thought about anything in particular, other than the novelty of the island of quiet itself, as we ate. Generally content, and unrushed. My legs had been crossed in front of me, and I was leaning back slightly. There was an intention to uncross them, so I sat up straight in order to do so, and...<blank>.

After: ...annnd back again. Still sitting up straight, hadn't fallen over, hadn't yet uncrossed my legs. Immediately aware of the gap in the flow of my experience that had just occurred. I felt surprised, puzzled, somewhat stunned, a tinge or worry, that something interesting had happened off-cushion. I looked around the table, and the others were still eating normally. I sat, and tried to compare it to other, recent experiences. In the wake of other, recent off-cushion "blips", I am able to reconstruct the chain of events from memory, and the key recognition is that I wasn't really present in the preceding moment. In this case though, there were no memories of going from A to B, just a gap. I had stopped eating as I thought about this, and I became self-conscious that the others might notice...but they didn't. I then wondered if had been an actual experience of void/blackness...or did I ascribe such to the gap retroactively...I'm still not sure. I thought that it might have been a cessation, or cessation-like, or at least in the ballpark, but waited a week before adding the above entry, to see if any further insights about the experience surfaced. But other than an enduring sense that the event was significant, nothing further became obvious, so I posted it last night.

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Good tip Tarver, thanks!

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HNY folks!

With the holiday season now over, I hope to get back to a more regular sitting practice. Being in crowded family houses can be taxing, but it also makes it much more difficult to find a quiet corner I usually managed at least one 20-minute sit per day, but this is quite a bit less than normal for me

That said, I had an odd off-cushion experience that repeated itself a few times. Once standing around with family, twice while seated eating meals (hope the meal-time thing doesn't become a theme!).

In each case, I was generally just plugging away with the meal and/or conversation, surrounded by the near and dear, many of whom I have known my whole life. Then there is a subtle mental shift, and I am profoundly struck by how little I really know them, or rather how little we know each other...and yet we keep on stubbornly(?) interacting as if this were not so, based on arbitrary, shared details. In some cases, the awareness was so acute that they seemed like strangers. Intellectually, I know who they are, what they mean to me, and remember our histories together, which heightens a kind of sadness that in spite of this closeness, we don't (can't?) ever really know each other that well. In a sense, it strikes me that this is an inherent limitation of our existence, that try as we might, there are practical limits to how well any two people can know each other, and that even decades of proximity can only make us slightly more familiar.

After 30 to 60 seconds of this "awareness", my mind shifts back, and I am again engrossed in the interpersonal dynamic, and I am normally connected again to aunts, uncles, parents, cousins and siblings. I am me, we are we, family and friends, just as we always have been.

Afterward, there is no residual sadness or anxiety that I could detect, only a clear memory of how unfamiliar these important people had seemed seconds earlier.

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